


Let's Percolate

by KiraMae



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 16:21:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiraMae/pseuds/KiraMae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris introduces Hawke to a new beverage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Percolate

Hawke sat straight up in bed, instantly awake, instantly alert.

Where was Fenris?

He was in no way a morning person. It was still early, judging from the angle of the shafts of sunlight squeezing between the drapes. But the other side of the bed was empty, sheets cool, though the indent of his head was still on the pillow and his scent still clung to the thick downy blanket.

Normally, she was the first to wake; he would have his back to her, and she’d wrap an arm around his waist and pull him close, molding herself to his body. He’d scowl, dark brows knotting together, and his white hair would be a mess, and she’d kiss the back of his neck and nibble at his ear and he’d pull the pillow over his face but harassing the grumpy elf in the morning was the only way to start her day right.

How had he managed to slip out without waking her? Normally she was a light sleeper, but- and she smiled lazily, recalling it -last night’s exertions had been rather strenuous.

The stone floor was cold on her bare feet as she slipped out of bed, though she was loathe to leave its warmth. The chill morning air nipped at her skin, causing her arms to raise in little goose bumps; she slipped her house robe over her shoulders, tying it closed as she opened the bedroom door.

A pungent aroma greeted her, unlike anything she had ever smelled before, but not unpleasant. It was earthy and bright, and she let it guide her down the stairs and to the kitchen.

That was where she found him, his face wearing its usual stoic mask, standing over the raised cooking hearth, frying pan in hand. The firelight danced across the lyrium tattoos on his bare arms, and the warmth of it drew her forward. She didn’t often spend time in the quaint stone kitchen, as she was a terrible cook and Orana was a wonderful one, and she didn’t feel the need to improve the condition. She’d had no idea that Fenris could cook, though it made sense. An elvish slave would have been taught to cook, wouldn’t he?

A part of her grew a little heavier with sadness, while at the same time, her heart swelled up with affection; she hadn’t thought she could love him more.

She moved to stand behind him, loosely circling her arms around his waist and resting her forehead in the gentle curve between his shoulder blades.

“I thought you’d left me in the night.”

“You know nothing could keep me from your side,” he said, and his voice was like being wrapped in a thick, warm blanket, his words infusing her with contentment.

The heavy, long-handled frying pan he held teased her growling stomach with its succulent aroma, potatoes and eggs and pepper and ham all scrambled together. He placed it carefully back on the fire, then turned in her arms, a gentle smile on his face as he looked down at her.

“You have exactly two seconds to either kiss me or feed me,” she said, and his smile grew wider as he leaned in obligingly to press his lips to hers, warm and firm and all she wanted in life.

Hawke pulled away, then peered over his shoulder at the cooking food. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but if it had anything to do with last night, I am prepared to do it all over again,” she said playfully.

“Well,” Fenris said, disentangling himself from her arms, “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while but I was waiting for certain… supplies.”

“Eggs and potatoes are sold in the market every day, Fenris.”

“Not for that,” he said, waving his hand dismissively at the food. “For this.” And he picked up a tall steel pot she hadn’t noticed before from where it was keeping hot on the edge of the hearth. “There is a bean that grows in Seheron. The fog warriors taught me how to grind it and brew it with hot water, similar to a tea, and I quite enjoyed the drink and I… thought you might, too.” As he spoke, he was pouring something dark and fragrant, the source of the aroma that had enticed her in to the kitchen in the first place, into a sturdy clay mug. “It took me more time and coin than I liked to find a merchant who trades in Qunari food and drink, but Varric was rather helpful.”

Hawke cupped the warm mug in her cold hands, sniffing cautiously at the contents. Fenris watched her, face unsure, as she brought it to her lips and sipped.

“Do you like it?”

Hawke had to fight not to spit it out, and she couldn’t keep herself from pulling a face. “It’s rather bitter,” she said, looking back up at him with eyebrows raised.

Unusually flustered, Fenris opened the larder and pulled out a small bowl of sugar an a bottle of cream. “I’ll admit it’s an acquired taste. It’s usually served sweetened, but I wasn’t sure if you…” he trailed off as he turned back, watching her taking another cautious sip.

“No I- I could get used to it,” Hawke said, swishing the liquid around in her mouth a bit. “It’s rather,” and she hesitated, searching for the proper word, “refreshing? Sort of wakes you up, doesn’t it.” Fenris smiled. He took the mug from her hands, liberally adding cream and sugar.

“Now try,” he said, lifting the mug to her lips again.

“Mmm. Mmm, oh, that  _is_  good.” She wrapped her hands back around the mug again, letting the heat of the drink warm her hands.

“I’m glad you like it,” Fenris said, sitting down at the small kitchen table where his own prepared mug already rested. “The food won’t be done for a while yet, if you’d like to sit for a bit. Share the morning with me, Hawke?”

Hawke leaned down and pressed a kiss on the top of his tousled, white hair.

“Every morning of every day until you are sick of me, I will share with you.”


End file.
